Behind Closed Doors
by deathofaraven
Summary: He was there, but nobody saw him. They all heard him, though. Heard him speaking enough to bring Dante to his knees in the last place he could imagine.


Author's note is at the bottom of the page.

* * *

"_A simple fear to wash you away. An open mind cancelled it today.  
A silent song that's in your words. A different taste that's in your mind.  
__This is the life on Mars."_

_~Buddha for Mary, 30 Seconds To Mars_

* * *

The room closed in on him, making the air suffocating. His cage's walls pulsed with dark, toxic light. Demonic snarls and voices melted through the walls and steel door as though the walls did not exist. But as he pounded on the unyielding surface with all his demonic strength, that observance proved false.

He put his head in his hands, the noises stabbing into his ears sharply. The pain, oh, the pain. It never ended here. He wanted it to be over. He wanted out. He wanted out. He wanted _out!_

A low growl left his mouth, but whether or not it was a growl of fright or anger was unclear.

"What's wrong, brother?" a quiet, cool voice inquired from above his kneeling form.

The man let out a small, pained half-laugh. Of course _he_ was here. Vergil was the only one who knew how to get past the guards. The only one who came to see him regularly. The one who got him locked up in the first place.

"Like you don't know," Dante snapped. "Get out."

"I can help you, brother. I can make you strong again; set you free."

Freedom…what was freedom? Had he ever had it? He didn't remember. Vergil offered it, but Dante couldn't take it. It was beyond his grasp.

A loud screech tore through the room and the man dug his nails into his scalp as he covered his ears once more. Sometimes the noise was accompanied by the demons, who would scratch and stab at him, and sometimes not. Sometimes Vergil would leave when they came, and sometimes he would stay. The guards didn't like him, though, and he sometimes suffered for it.

He closed his eyes, willing it away and drifted off. Sleep dulled the pain and disconcertment. It dulled everything. He woke up frequently but for short amounts of time and didn't get a chance to focus on anything. It was what the man wanted.

The next time he woke up, he felt better than he had for a while. Very clear-headed. He sat up, wondering how he got into a bed and saw…her.

She was so beautiful, so angelic. She brushed a long strand of golden hair from her blue eyes and continued to watch him silently. Trish in her vinyl suit and silk blouse seemed clearer and more real than anything else in this prison.

"How are you?" the woman asked, smiling slightly.

"Are you-"

"I'm real. Don't worry, Dante, I'm not going to hurt you."

The devil hunter looked away a moment, relaxing slightly before answering the woman's previous question. "I'm okay. Wish you'd get me the hell outta here."

"You know why I can't do that, babe," Trish replied almost kindly.

"Because _you_ locked him away here?" another voice replied, and Dante caught sight of Vergil lounging against the wall as if he'd been there since last week.

Trish frowned, but didn't look at the elder twin. "Lady just wanted to help y-"

"And a damn lot of good she's done!" Dante raged.

"If you would be more open, it would be," the blond demoness snapped irritably. "You _don't need him_, Dante."

Dante stared, looking confused. Need him? Who? Verge? He didn't need him. Didn't need anyone. Right? So…why didn't Trish believe him?

"Of course, he does." Vergil was tense, his face paler than usual, and his voice bitter.

The younger of the twins sat there in silence, not sure who to listen to.

"You don't. We want you back. We all miss you. Patty's a wreck worrying about you. It's not the same at home…without you."

"Do not listen to her, brother."

"I'm not lying to you, Dante."

"Yes, she is."

"I-"

"_Shut up!"_ the man roared at both his brother and the woman. Their bickering was doing in his head. He couldn't think and the room was spinning.

For once, everything went silent. Blessedly silent. Funny how he'd never valued silence before this imprisonment.

"Get out," Dante growled.

Neither of the other occupants in the room moved.

"Get _out!_"

Trish stood up abruptly. She sighed and her eyes were troubled. "Dante-"

"Didn't you hear him, you pathetic, shambled _replica? Leave!_"

Fury sparked in the demoness's eyes. Her jaw was clenched as she stormed to the door.

The man pushed past his brother and attempted to follow the woman. "Wait, Trish!"

He was answered with the heavy steel door being slammed in his face. He nearly groaned. So close to getting out…and now the only person who could see his brother (Nero didn't count since he could only sense him) and who believed him was mad. Alienated. And, once again, it was Vergil's fault.

"I _hate_ you," the man spat, fuming.

"You wouldn't be here without me," his twin returned, his blue eyes dangerous.

"No, I fucking wouldn't be! I'd be free! I could do whatever the fuck I wanted to! But no! You had to come along and screw it up! Yeah, Verge. You really helped me." The younger boy sat heavily down on his bed and raked his fingers through his hair. "Just leave me the hell alone."

Vergil neither moved nor attempted to make Dante look at him. He never touched him, not even when things Dante said or did made him fly into a rage. He'd learned better ways of torment, the younger supposed.

"One of these days," the elder man purred quietly, sitting next to his twin as the walls began to pulse and toxic gas slowly poured into the air, "you will learn to appreciate all that I've done for you."

The youngest son of Sparda felt his lungs contract painfully. "Like threatening to destroy this world if I didn't help you? Yeah, bro, I feel really appreciative."

"Shut up."

* * *

Trish leaned against the door a long time. Her blue eyes were closed against the bright lights of the hallway and her expression was pained. She looked tired. She took a couple deep breaths and steadied her racing heart. Truthfully, she supposed she should have been used to the cruel comments by now. She was the first to be subjected to them, after all.

She stood up, straightened her skirt and jacket and started down the sterilely clean hall. When the blond reached the waiting room and sat down between the two oddest-looking ones in the room. One was a woman with dark, shaggy hair and mismatched eyes and the other was a white haired teenage boy with a bandaged arm and long midnight blue coat.

The boy looked up at Trish hopefully, but the demoness shook her head.

"Don't ask."

"I told you they said he wasn't any better," Lady said, not looking up from her perusal of an outdated magazine.

"Old man sounded fine enough when I talked to him last week," Nero muttered.

"They said it comes in episodes," Trish replied calmly, stopping an argument before it could start. "You've never talked to him during one, Nero."

Lady opened her mouth to retort when a nurse wandered over, her tired face attempting to offer a warm smile. "The hospital director will see you now."

* * *

AN: Well, hi, there. Erm...yeah, I started this little fic just before Christmas, lost it, and just found it again so I thought I'd post it. It's a two shot so the next chapter (which I've neither completed nor edited) will hold some answers...when I post it. Sorry for any OOCness. I hope you all enjoyed this. Thankies for reading, though a few reveiws would be lovely. :) *waves*

Disclaimer: DMC and all it's characters belong to Capcom. Nor do I own 30 Seconds To Mars. I'm making no money off of this. Would cookies or sundaes convince you not to sue me?


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